


Now and Always

by Macklef0rd



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, game of thrones
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-30
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-16 02:37:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14802762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macklef0rd/pseuds/Macklef0rd
Summary: Robb Stark is Theon's best kept secret. When things don't go according to plan, Theon has to improvise, but Robb might not be happy about it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was written years ago. I recently stumbled upon it and thought, "You know why not post it?" If things go well, maybe I'll continue.  
> There will be no sex, but implications and cuss words.

“I’ll be back, don’t worry.” Theon knew Robb had trusted him with this mission. A simple task really. All he needed to do was go home, and ask for help. How easy a task Theon had made it in his own head. To prove Catelyn Stark wrong. That he could be trusted. That he loved her son. Would do anything for Robb. His best kept secret. He always did like Redheads. 

Ros had been a distraction when Robb couldn’t sneak away. It was hard enough sneaking her in. A whore in his bed could easily be explained away. Robb Stark in his bed however… Well, that was another thing entirely.  
Just like this mission had been another thing. Plans had been made, and yet like everything in the young wards life, something had been said to screw it all up.  
Theon sighed as he remembered the reunion with his father. 

“Iron or Gold,” Balon Greyjoy had asked.  
“Stark or Greyjoy?”  
“An Alliance…” Theon had replied. That would be easier than making a choice. That would ensure that the heir to Pyke could skate around his answer. Let the sea wash his secret away. Instead the proposal had been met with flames. Burned to ash without even a passing glance. He hadn’t even broken the the seal. He watched as the wax melted in the flames. And it wouldn’t be the first time he’d watched something melt.  
Sneaking into each others rooms at night under the pretense of studying. In all reality, the only thing they had ever really studied on those nights was each other. Studies of sweat, and stolen kisses. And promises that couldn’t be kept.

“A wolf in sheeps clothing,” Robb would playfully mutter in his ear. (More like lack of clothing) Kraken jokes never really worked in those types of situations and when they were made, it usually just resulted in fits of laughter. Laughter, kisses, and fucking.  
Theon couldn’t help but wonder if maybe somehow his father knew. He seemed pretty ashamed of him as it were. The Starks and Greyjoys had a history. Wars lost, brothers lost, and yet, here he was. Trying to fix things. 

“Instead I’ve made a mess of it all!” Theon slammed his fist down on the desk. He would need a good cover up. How could he earn his fathers trust? He swallowed. He’d known the answer for days now.  
A false betrayal. But how would Robb possibly understand? How could he possibly be convincing, and still take Winterfell?  
He’d been the first to bend the knee. Rose up, and declared his loyalty to Robb Stark. The King in The North.  
He’d watched Greywind attack someone who dared question him. Had bitten a mans fingers clean off! What would that wolf do to him? What would Robb do to him?  
A smirk suddenly spread across his face, as he picked up a pen. He’d write to Robb, all the while thinking of all the things The King in The North could possibly do to him.


	2. The Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theon writes a letter to Robb explaining the current situation at Pyke

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you notice a difference, or improvement in the writing, that's because the previous chapter was written 4-5 years ago. I've learned a lot since then. For everyone who left Kudos on the previous chapter, thank you!  
> I didn't want to just write the letter as it was directly on the show. So, I did my best to keep it similar to the source material, while altering it slightly to fit the plot.

Robb,  
I hope this letter arrives to you on time. The negotiations with my Father failed. He's planned a surprise attack on the North, and plans to invade the shores and take Deepwood Motte. Prepare your troops, and head back towards the North. If you can't reach the North in time, I have another plan.  
You'll just have to trust that not all is as it may seem.  
I'll write again when it's safe  
-Theon

He re read the words over again. Theon’s eyes darted from the candle’s flame, and back to the letter.  
Am I really making the right choice?  
Once more, Theon glanced down at the letter, pressed his lips together, and exhaled slowly as he brought the paper towards the flame. The sudden movement caused the flame to dance away from the letter.  
I’m going to burn it, and that’ll be the end of it!  
A split second before the flame caught the papers edge, he let it drift back down to the desk.  
I can’t betray him.

Theon thought back to all the nights the two of them had spent together. All the laughter they’d shared.  
Sansa and Arya had become his sisters. Bran had just woken from that terrible fall in the tower, and was begging as normal a life as a crippled boy of ten could. Rickon needed constant watching now that he was getting older.  
Robb wouldn’t be the only one he’d betray if Theon failed. He’d be turning his back on the entire Stark family.

What had Balon Greyjoy ever done for him, besides give him away?  
Ned may be gone now, Balon had been quick to remind him of that but Lord Stark had never treated him badly.  
He thought back to his arrival on Pyke. Yara had tried to seduce him. His own flesh and blood.

Theon felt bile raise in the back of his throat, and shuttered at the idea of what could have happened between the two of them. He was no Lannister! The bones in his hands cracked, balled into fists as he struggled to suppress the rage the boiled in the pit of his stomach.  
Sansa is still with them.  
The poor girl must be terrified. Theon couldn’t fault her for that. A wolf had no place in the Lion’s den, just as he had no place here.

Balon had been right. Theon had been more wolf than Kraken, after all.  
“We do not sow,” he muttered to himself. He once believed that the words of his house struck fear into the hearts of all those who dared to enter the shores of Pyke. To be a Greyjoy meant you raided, pillaged, raped, and reaped. Where was the honor in that?  
Theon’s mind wandered back to Ned.  
The man who passes the sentence, should swing the sword. That’s what he’d instilled in each of his boys, Theon included.  
One morning, while the King and Queen had still been in Winterfell, he’d overheard a conversation between Jory and the Imp.  
“Theon,” Jory questioned. “He’s a good Lad.”  
“I’m not so sure,” Tyrion’s voice rang in his ears, mocking him. That’s what the Imp did best.  
“Your loyalty to your captors’ is touching.” Theon couldn’t exactly deny that the life of a Ward had not been easy, but Lord and Lady Stark never treated him poorly, either.

He stood hurriedly, licked his fingertips, and extinguished the candles flame between his thumb and pointer finger.  
Don’t make me regret this, Robb.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theon pledges himself to the drowned god, but reflects on the night before he left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm doing my best to keep everyone in character. Critics are always welcome! It will only help me improve.

His father would never put faith in someone who refused the pledge to the Drowned God. Theon's eyes fell to the rock where Yara and Balon watched. She was already doubtful, it was written all over her face. There wasn't time for the full ceremony. He would not be drowned today. If he was being honest, Theon was relieved. Instead, he knelt in the shallow edge of the the water fell, and his eyes closed, his jaw went sack. In truth, he had no faith in any god; Drowned, The Seven, The Old Gods. It made no difference which one he swore to. It was all just words.

"What is dead, may never die."

He stood, eyes locked on the priest. The stares of his father and sister made him uneasy. Theon pressed his lips together. Salt water dried out his tongue, and brought memories back to him. In the North, it was customary to serve bread and salt to your guests. A display that ensured support, if only at the table. You were a guest in the North, and the host owed it to them to hear out the words. Such a gesture suggested peace, for a time.

That was not to be confused with permission to speak out of turm. Lord Umber learned that lesson the hard way. Robb nearly declared him an Oathbreaker. Umber had dared to raise his voice to Robb. Theon was quick, and on his feet, dagger in hand, ready to pull the blade on him to Robb's command. However, Greywind had been quicker, and the man left with only eight fingers.

In the end, they all had a laugh about it later, and Robb was declared a king, much to his Mother's dismay.

Theon shook the memory from his mind, not yet ready to drift further back into that night. He could not allow himself to appear weak in front of his family now, as he strode over towards the ledge and made sure his eyes locked with his fathers before speaking.

"I'll need a crew to take the North"

Balon's eyes drifted over his son, not looking the least bit impressed.

"You'll have twenty men."

"Twenty? Father, I've proven m'self to you haven't I," His brows knit together, and his jaw set. Theon sucked his cheeks inward, further contouring his jawline. Robb had noted the gesture once, and commented that it made Theon appear more intimidating.

"Not yet you haven't." Balon didn't budge. "I asked you to raid a fishing village, son. twenty is more than enough for a worthy Greyjoy captain. Each Ironborn man is worth about ten of that pups Northerners."

He stared at his father, and nodded in agreement. If he was going to play Balon at his own game, Theon couldn't push too hard.

"Fine," Theon hissed. "Twenty will do."

Theon turned on his heels, nodding once to Yara before striding off towards the blacksmiths quarters. As he approached the smith, Theon smiled. New thingshad always excited him, and this would make the act appear all the more convincing.

"Where is it, then," Theon drummed his fingers impatiently on the blacksmiths table. "They told me you were the most skilled smith in Pyke."

The back smith sneered before turning his back to the heir. That bit wasn't something he had to pretend. It was true, and a part of him enjoyed the weight that came with such a title. When he turned back to Theon, the smith thumped the armor on the table.

"There," he spat. "Shiny and new."

Theon smirked at the mans mockery. There'd be a battle, and he'd prove to the Iron born that he could fight, just on the wrong side.

"It will become battle worn in time." He pushed the leather pouch towards the smith, and took up the armor in his hands, before he placed the uniform snugly under the armpit.

"Next time you see me, I'll be a Prince." A bold statement, perhaps, but that was the iron born way.

He changed in his quarters. The armor weighed much less than the ones favored in the North. Leather was much more insulating than iron. He already felt more agile. As much as he liked the warm, comforting layers of the North he had to admit in some cases, the Iron fleet had the upper hand. Lighter armor provided more agility and movement. Though, movement did come at a price. Iron provided more protection than leather, and thick undercoats.

The sigil of his house now out in the open. It felt strange. He'd always born the sigil of his house.- His cloak had a Kraken as well, but Theon never felt it suited him. He glanced over at the cloak that hung in the corner. The last time he'd worn the olive green velvet had been... When?

When I promised him my father's ships.

"I'm not a Stark, I know that," he'd told Robb before he left.

"But your father raised me to be honorable. I won't fail you, Robb."

I shouldn't have made promises. Lady Stark was right.

Theon looked himself over in a cloudy mirror. He couldn't quite recognize himself like this. He shut his eyes, and allowed himself to drift back to the night before he left.

Robb had tiptoed into his tent for a change.

"Come to discuss more plans, your grace?"

"I told you, Theon. You don't have to call me that when nobody is around to hear," Robb chuckled quietly, and let the flap to the tent fall. Theon smirked, and stepped forward.

"And what will happen if I defy you, your grace?" The king In The North gasped as he nipped at the shell of his ear. Robb shoved him onto the cott. His fingers buried into the base of Theon's skull, forcing him to meet his gaze. Both their pulses quickened. For a moment, they just stared at each other, breathing heavily, wondering who would make the next move.

"I don't have time for games, Theon."

"Who said anything about games?" His lips were now inches from Robb's. He dropped his gaze just long enough to glance at his lips, before bringing his eyes back to meet his.

That was all Robb needed. Their lips met. Theon muffled a moan as he kissed down Robb's neck. The problem with the Northern style of dress was all the layers. Sure, they provided warmth from the icy winds, and the frozen ground. Though, the moment clothing was no longer needed it became frustrating.

Their clothes lay scattered about the ground. Robb pressed his lips gently to Theon's forehead.

"You're going to marry her, aren't you?" Theon sighed heavily.

"You know I have to."

"You're a king," he scoffed. "They take orders from you. It's not the other way round, anymore."

"She's pregnant, Theon."

"So?"

"So," Robb nearly sneered at him. "I have to marry her."

"You Northerners and your honor," He rolled his eyes. Had there been room in the cott, he'd have turned his back to the king sharing his bed.

"It's what Father would have done."

Robb kissed him again. His lips felt plump and smooth against his own.

"And what about this?" Theon didn't bother to mask the jealousy this time.

Robb never gave him an answer.

That was the trouble with secrets. They were gone before you woke in the morning. Secrets left you cold, and wondering if it had all been a dream.

Theon opened his eyes. He wasn't in the North anymore. The weight of everything was falling on him. He crossed the room, and wandered over to his bed. His hand ran across the blanket. Northern blankets provided more warmth. Theon missed the warm pelts of Winterfell. The blankets provided here had been knit from itchy wool that scraped gently at his skin.

He thought back to his letter, silently wondering if Robb had read it by now.

He sighed, and ran a hand over his face. A knock on the door caused him to look up.

"Theon," Yara called through the door. "We're leaving."

"I'm on my way."

He caught his reflection in the mirror once more as he strode out the door.

"Please let him understand what I'm about to do."


End file.
